


The Taste of Coffee

by mxxxxj



Category: Moominvalley (Cartoon 2019), Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson, 楽しいムーミン一家 | Moomin (Anime 1990)
Genre: "moomee!", Everyone Is Gay, I know moomin likes coffee canonically, M/M, Mutual Pining, Snufkin is bad with feelings, Snusmumriken | Snufkin Has Paws and a Tail, let me have this tho, mostly canon, perhaps too many ocs lmao
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2020-04-12 11:43:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19131346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mxxxxj/pseuds/mxxxxj
Summary: Too abrasive on the taste buds, Moomintroll preferred his coffee doctored up with a splash of cream and a bit of sugar... But from Snufkin, black coffee was tasty, even if it was bittersweet.





	1. Coffee and Peace

**Author's Note:**

> Howdy folks it's my first time publishing anything here  
> I'm just a baby and I was writing mostly for myself but I thought people might enjoy, so here you are!  
> I suck at titles lmfao sorry about tht  
> Also I'm on tumblr @maybe-i-shouldnt-have

The chilly mid-autumn wind caressed Snufkin’s cheek, causing his eyes to well up from the sting of the cold. The mumrik was sat on the bridge with his legs dangling over the edge. He quickly blinked the tears back and pulled his scarf closer to his face.

He was hurriedly composing a letter to Moomintroll, as he’d need to leave soon if he wished to head south before he froze. He gave the letter a satisfied once-over and placed it in the envelope with some pressed mums and purple fountain grass. It was Snufkin’s custom to include some sort of treasure or trinket in his letters to the troll, whatever happened to make him think of the other. He sealed the envelope and slid it into the mailbox by the bridge.

The sun had just peeked over the horizon, giving the river a wonderful hazy glow. The dew on the grass was frozen into a million diamond glints, refracting the sun’s honey-gold rays into a beautiful array of colors.

This time of year always caused a bittersweet ache in the mumrik’s chest, a feeling that he couldn’t quite describe. It was all so beautiful; the frosty fields, the red-purple hue of the sky, and the rainbow of trees in the forest… Every fleeting moment seemed to hang in the air with a sentimental finality.

Shaking his head as if shaking out a dusty rug, Snufkin realized Moomintroll would be awake soon. This meant he had to brace for the tearful goodbyes. He never was good with all of these emotions; that isn’t to say that he didn’t find it hard to leave his dear friend. His tail languidly swished side to side and he pawed at the hem of his green smock-frock before returning to his tent to gather some supplies for building a small fire. He wanted to brew some coffee before he hit the road. He rummaged about in his bag for the box of matches and jar of coffee.

“Snufkin!” Moomintroll called from his window. He tossed his old rope ladder out the window and hurried over to the other, as fast as his short legs would allow.

“Good morning, Moomintroll,” Snufkin stuck his head out of his tent with a warm smile, climbing out and sitting down in front of the fire. He sat his bag behind the log. “Won’t you have some coffee and biscuits with me?” He produced a small tin of molasses biscuits from his knapsack.

“Oh, of course!” The troll chimed, sitting on the log and happily warming his paws by the fire. He gratefully took a mug and filled it with the bitter liquid and drank.

The mumrik presented the tin to Moomin, who graciously took a few biscuits before placing the tin between the two of them on the log.

After a moment of silence, the air between them seemed to be saturated with thoughts unsaid.  
“I suppose…” Moomin trailed off, looking at the winding creek beside them. “You’ll be leaving soon, won’t you?”

With that, a pang of guilt struck Snufkin’s heart. His tail flicked about and he hummed. “Mmm. I was planning on leaving by noon at the very latest,” He took a sip of his coffee and scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. “It’s almost November.”

A saccharine smile formed on the troll’s lips, as he placed his paw on the other’s shoulder gently. “Snufkin, when will you figure it out? I understand that you must be free. I couldn’t fathom being the reason you stayed and made yourself miserable.”

Snufkin’s freckled cheeks flushed and he let out a small sigh; he hadn’t even realized he was holding his breath. He hesitated for a moment, and his lip twitched as he searched for the words he wanted to say. None of the words seemed to properly express his gratitude, so he opted not to say anything.

He removed his hat and ran a paw through his tangled mat of ruddy brown hair. His pointed ears twitched slightly, unused to the cold of the morning. He reached for the biscuit tin and dunked one in his coffee, then downed the rest of his drink and gingerly placed the mug on the frozen ground.

Birds began chirping and calling out to each other as the sun slowly climbed higher in the sky. A woodpecker attacked a tree somewhere in the distant wood, causing Snufkin to grow slightly tense. No matter how much he wanted to say something-  _anything_ \- he couldn't quite find the words.

“...I suppose I should head out.” Snufkin muttered halfheartedly, standing up and retrieving the empty mug from the troll’s paws to give it a quick rinse in the river. He packed the rest of his things back in his bag and suddenly felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He didn’t know why he found it harder to say goodbye when Moomin was being understanding. Once again, he found himself hesitating.

“Goodbye, Moomee.” He said softly, opening his arms. He felt the fur on his arms standing on end as the two embraced. It was almost like static electricity had run through his veins.

“Goodbye, Snufkin. Won’t you please write me? Even though I’ll be hibernating?” Moomin pled, giving Snufkin a gentle squeeze.

“Always.” The mumrik responded, breaking the embrace. And with that, he slung his bag over his shoulders, tipped his hat with a perfunctory smile, and made his way down the path towards his winter adventure.

* * *

_Moomintroll,_

 

_By the time you read this, I'll be on my journey south for the winter. This year seemed to really fly by, I feel almost as if it was just spring a few days ago! How time flies when you’re spending it with a friend._

_Enclosed are some pressed flowers I thought you might like, I picked them on one of our walks back in September. You mentioned the fountain grass reminded you of my tail._

 

_Hibernate soundly,_

_Snufkin_

_P.S. I'm going to stop by the town with the wonderful sea glass again this year. I'll be sure to send you something nice._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna try and keep writing more so i can get better, I'm more of a poet than an actual novelist so this is my first venture with that  
> sorry the first chapter is so short fjskdf I'm getting in the zone  
> uuhhh yeah be gay do crimes  
> yeet I'm going thru and fixing grammar issues


	2. Solitary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On this week's episode of Snufkin is bad with emotions:

Snufkin made it over the lonely mountains and into the woods on the other side. He ambled the path and stopped in a small town where he purchased some local produce for his stew. It was nearly noon as he strolled through the farmer's market. Some winter squash, broccoli, shallots, carrots, and garlic made their way into his knapsack. He didn’t have much money, but the vendors in this town were always happy to see him, and at times they’d gift Snufkin produce if he’d play them some music in return (he happily obliged). Despite the town being quaint and picturesque, he found himself getting somewhat anxious with too much hustle and bustle.

Eventually, word got out to many of the residents that the vagabond Snufkin had returned to their humble town. Everyone was congregating around him and he felt like a zoo animal or some sort of spectacle people could gawk at. The mumrik felt his cheeks flare up and he knew he couldn’t stay much longer, too many people wanted to shake his hand or talk to him. Of course, none of it was done with the express purpose of making him uncomfortable, he was just quite wary of strangers.

As he snuck out of the crowd, he made his way into a restaurant. He stood by the bar, peering behind the counter. He was slightly too short to be seen from the ground, so he climbed into a barstool.

"Excuse me," He started. "Would you mind packing me a loaf of your day-old country bread? I need to get back on the road." Snufkin pulled out his small coin purse and spilled the contents on the counter. He counted out enough money to cover the cost and pushed it to the further edge of the bar, scooping the rest back into his coin purse.

"Certainly." The old hemulen was washing and drying dishes when the mumrik had come into her shop. She wiped her hands on her pinny and shuffled back into the kitchen. After a few moments, she came back around the corner with a neatly-wrapped loaf of bread. 

"Thank you very much." Snufkin pulled the bread from the counter and gingerly placed it in his knapsack before slinking back out of the door. He briskly walked through the rest of the town, nodding at the townsfolk as he passed through. He felt a wave of relief wash over himself as he took his first step outside of the town limits. Too much socializing for one day.

As the mumrik made his way through the woods, snow began to fall. He walked along a babbling brook for a while, using his penknife to cut down some reed plants that were growing on the banks. Every time he walked past the dried horsetail reed, he always told himself that he would try his hand at crafting a panpipe.

He spent a while sitting under a barren weeping willow, tuning and constructing the pipes before continuing further south through the woods.

The amber sun was setting in the deep navy blue sky as the mumrik made his way through the forest. All around him, leaves were rustling in the crisp air, some slowly tumbling to the forest floor. He was playing a jaunty tune on his new instrument.

The lamenting call of a snowy owl sent a shiver of anticipation through his spine. It was the perfect night to lay out under the stars and count how many he could see. It was quite cold and the sky had cleared up, without a cloud in sight.

“What a gorgeous night,” He breathed in awe, a small smile lighting up his face.

He came to a clearing in the wood near a small pond, he used it as a milestone on his journeys. He decided that it was probably an ideal time to set up camp and make some supper. He laid down his tarpaulin on the damp ground and produced his little green bag of tobacco from his pocket, fishing around in the other for his pipe.

Torpidly blowing some smoke rings, he hammered the stakes of his tent into the ground. Contented, he wiped his brow with a slightly grubby paw. He looked around for some small trees he could use as firewood to begin cooking up a nice, hearty dinner.

He hummed a tune as he prepared the fish he caught earlier. The tune began sweetly, ebbing and flowing like the river he lived by for most of the year. It took a melancholy turn, transposing the beautiful major melody into an aching minor mode. It didn’t need to stay somber for long, and Snufkin felt it was right to bring the metaphorical sun back from behind the clouds.

The mumrik discarded his hat to the side and laid back on the tarpaulin as his stew was simmering. He gazed up at the beautiful display of stars, each shined and twinkled like crystals or bits of broken glass. It was painfully beautiful, thinking about just how lonely each star must feel in the cold, black void of the night. He wondered if there were little creatures with wayfarer lives peering at him from their far away stars.

His mind wandered to Moomintroll, who was probably deep in slumber by this point. Something about the troll kept Snufkin coming back every year- spending time with Moomin was a special feeling he couldn't replace. It made his heart flutter like the wings of a fledgling, it tied his stomach in sailor's knots, and he didn't know how he would cope without their friendship. He broke into a cold sweat and his tail curled around his leg.

 _Is that all this is? Just a friendship?_ Snufkin wasn't sure. He knew that this relationship they had was something to be treasured, and he'd hate to ruin it by having any silly notions about this or that. _Certainly, there can't be any feelings on Moomin's end! He's in a happy relationship with Snorkmaiden, after all._

The mumrik quickly swiped his hat from beside himself on the tarp, groaning. He placed it over his face grumpily. _Why must emotions cause such unnecessary turmoil?_  He fancied himself as a cheerful and carefree mumrik, but... These days, he'd been feeling more and more like he'd swallowed a lead brick. The things he was feeling were scaring him silly, they made his throat go dry and his eyes water.

"How utterly bothersome," Snufkin muttered, massaging his temples. He sighed and propped himself up on his elbows, a sour expression painting his features. "Perhaps I'd better eat my supper. My head always was foolish on an empty stomach."

Pouring himself a nice helping of stew, he wrapped himself up in his worn, woolen blanket (Moominmamma knit it for him two winters ago). He pushed the troubling thoughts from his mind, pulling out the loaf of bread he purchased earlier. He tore off a bit and dipped it in the broth of the stew, soaking up all of the wonderful aromatic flavors.

With a belly full of stew and bread, he readied himself for bed. Tomorrow, he'd write Moomintroll a letter.

~~~

When Snufkin was finally asleep, he dreamed of absurd things.

Things like holding Moomin's hand, ice skating, and sharing a kiss on the cliff's edge that overlooked the sea.

_"You mean the world to me, Moomintroll. I'd stay every winter if I didn't need time to myself."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Snufkin voice: Here I go again on my own walkin' down the only road that I know
> 
> Yeet, I'm not very good at writing over 1k words per chapter please excuse my brevity sdkfjl;a


	3. Facing Fears and Family Bonds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy FUCK it's been a long time since I updated. But this chapter is longer! hope you enjoy

At the crack of dawn, Snufkin was already awake. His dream seemed to keep replaying in his mind's eye. The dream was vivid and comforting, yet it alarmed him just how much he wanted it. Traveling with Moomin, stargazing, and huddling by a campfire. It all seemed so perfect. It terrified him.

Something was nagging at the back of his mind- chiding him for being such a coward. _If_ _only I wasn't so afraid of these feelings..._ He shook his head, his tail flicking from side to side in annoyance.

As the sun yawned over the horizon, Snufkin made himself some breakfast: toast and coffee. He wrote about his dream in his journal as he was eating. He almost felt childish for writing in a diary, but it helped him declutter his mind. (And he would feel bad if the gift from Moomintroll went unused.) When he was finished, he tucked the journal back in his bag. He sighed softly, waving his paw as if to shoo away the nagging thoughts like a fly.

After breakfast, he packed his things and continued southward. The air smelled like ozone, and he could tell that it was going to snow later. The sky was a bleak white, drenching the winter landscape in a greyscale haze. The snow from the night prior clung to the branches that shivered in the wind. The crimson holly berries peaked out through the glass-like ice that encapsulated them. Snufkin used his penknife to saw a few branches from the holly bush to craft a wreath for his hat. The bright red berries contrasted the olive drab wonderfully.

It began snowing sometime around 2 pm.

He knew that it would hinder his progress to the next town, but he needed to get there by nightfall at the very latest. People were waiting to see him, and he was eager to send his letters to his friend.

All around him, the little forest creatures had hidden away. Many were in hibernation, the others simply avoiding the snow. He found it kind of eerie how the snow dampened the sounds of the forest. The woods around him were deathly quiet, and all that he could hear was the snow crunching under his boots and the white noise of the snowfall. It continued like this for a while- he didn't dare to play his instruments and risk waking anyone.

Instead, he got the idea to hum a song he composed last winter. Suddenly, the once-chilling forest seemed welcoming and playful, and the wind wasn't as frigid as before. The snowflakes seemed to dance along as they fell to the ground, lifting Snufkin's spirits significantly. He was starting to feel like his old self again. A small smile crinkled the corners of his eyes and his tail swayed from side to side with the tempo of his song.

Up ahead, about 10 meters away, there was a fork in the trail. This meant the next town wasn’t much further, about an hour or so away. (Maybe two, given the weather.) He continued southward, taking the path to his left.

 

Before he knew it, he made it to the town. He broke into an awkward half-sprint, careful not to slip and fall on any icy patches. He felt silly and like a little kid again. A large grin lit up his features. Running about like this was fun!

People talked in hushed voices when they saw him. "Oh, that’s Snufkin!” Or “Isn’t that the Joxter’s son?” And "He rarely visits! Nice to see him around again." The mumrik simply chuckled to himself and kept going.

He was on a mission.

Admittedly, not one he was fond of, but a mission nonetheless. He needed to make it to the Mymble residence. So, he made his way through the side streets and alleyways until he reached a long road that ran through the town. He came to a screeching halt, stopping to catch his breath and regain his cool. On one end, the road led up a hill to a large house that was surrounded by trees and bushes. The other end of the road led back to the town's center.

He half-dreaded visiting his family every winter, but it _was_ nice to check in. That, and he’d often receive letters from Mymblemother with passive-aggressive undertones if he didn't visit.

“ _Since you didn’t see us this year, here’s what happened..._ ” Followed by a painfully extensive list of every important detail the year held.

Snufkin had a very complex relationship with his family. He didn't know his parents until he was almost 18, the number of siblings he had was absurd, and he never truly felt at home when he visited. Instead, he felt more like a stranger or a family friend rather than a member of the family. He didn't mind too much, but it did get tiresome quickly.

He looked a great deal like his father, Joxter. From the freckles that dusted over the bridge of his nose and his pointed ears to the dark, ruddy fur that looked like hosiery and mittens. (The Joxter's fur was more black in coloration, but it covered his frame in all of the same places.) Despite Snufkin swearing that the two of them had nothing in common, they both enjoyed playing music, writing poetry, and exploring the world. And they both had an affinity for making friends with Moomintrolls.

 

He pulled his mouth organ from his knapsack, deciding to play a tune as he ambled up the hill towards the tall brick house.

As he reached the doorstep, he reached out a paw to grasp the tarnished Fleur-de-Lys knocker just before the door swung wide open, nearly pulling him with it. In front of him stood a Mymble child with dark hair and a devilish grin on her face.

"Goodness me," Snufkin muttered under his breath, straightening his hat. "Hullo, uh... I'm here to visit with Mymblemother and Joxter, do you happen to know where they are?" He pocketed his instrument and peaked around the doorframe.

"I know where they are, yes. Mama told me to bring you inside and have you wait in the drawing room." She piped, rocking back on her heels with an expectant look on her face. "I don't suppose you remember me?"

Snufkin squinted and tilted his head to the side. "Should I?"

"Pah! Men's memories are rubbish! Come on then, you're letting a draught in." She wore a sour expression and waved her paw, beckoning her older brother to follow her.

He wrung his paws together as he walked through the entry hallway, looking around at the paintings and decorations everywhere.

It was nice, in the way most mymble houses are (He had the opportunity to stay with another family of Mymbles one winter). The light blue walls were covered in crayon scrawl, the floors littered with toys and papers and odds and ends (from the little ones). The house was set with well-worn antique furniture, sturdy glass cabinets filled with Victorian china dolls, never-lit candles, and decorative teapots on high shelves. It was a wonder these things weren't broken.

There was a bible set open on an antique chest of drawers, just out of the reach of little paws. Every wall in the drawing room was covered with some sort of painting, be it still life pictures of vases of flowers, fruit, or birch forests.

"Well, since I suppose I have to re-introduce myself..." The little Mymble climbed on top of the faux-marble coffee table in the middle of the room. She pointed at Snufkin. "I'm Poppy! I chose my name five years ago and you met me then- though to be fair I suppose I _have_ grown..." She straightened out the rumples in her orange dress before shaking her head. "I can't believe you didn't recognize me!"

"Poppy? You look quite different!" Snufkin defended, smiling. He set his bag on the ground in front of the antique brocade sofa and took a seat. "You're taking on father's features. I thought you had red hair the last time I was here!"

"I did." Poppy huffed, sitting on the edge of the table. "That's why I chose the name I did! I thought I looked like a beautiful poppy flower. Now it doesn't fit."

"I still think it suits you," Snufkin reassured her, offering a small smile. "Besides, your hair is a maroon now, it's close enough, isn't it?"

"I guess..." Poppy muttered, crossing her arms. Her feet swung back and forth as they hung over the edge of the table. "Mama should be home soon. She was out with Papa gathering firewood."

Snufkin simply nodded awkwardly, removing his hat to run a paw through his tangled hair. He was feeling kind of apprehensive about seeing his parents again. He always felt this way every year, even knowing they'd be happy to see him again.

Poppy sighed. "I can tell there's a lot on your mind." She jumped down from where she was perched, landing on the hardwood with a great thud. The china in the cabinets nearby rattled nervously. "Now that I'm older you can trust me!"

"I'll be fine," Snufkin answered simply, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth.

"Tch. Whatever! I'll leave you to sulk here then," Poppy answered, rolling her eyes. She bolted to the stairs, quickly ascending before disappearing from Snufkin's line of sight.

"Children..." He grumbled, massaging his temples. Speaking of children, he hadn't seen any of his other siblings yet. Perhaps this was a blessing in disguise.

 

No more than ten minutes later, Mymblemother and Joxter came through the door, carrying a bundle of firewood and a bag of food each.

"Hullo," Snufkin started, quickly standing up and straightening his smock. "Do you need any help?"

"Snufkin! Dear!" Mymblemother beamed. "No, don't worry. We're quite alright! It's so good to see you again!" She hurried over to place the firewood by the fireplace before rushing over to give Snufkin a spine-shattering hug.

"Hullo, Snufkin." Joxter nodded, continuing past to the kitchen. He was a man of few words, but Snufkin appreciated that.

Snufkin wriggled out of the hug, his freckled cheeks tinted slightly pink. "I was thinking about setting up camp in your backyard," He knew the objection was about to come.

"No need! We have the guest room set up specifically so you can stay." Mymblemother chimed. She removed her large, red coat and hung it on the coatrack, grabbing a slightly stained pinny from a different hook. "And I changed the doorknob. It can be locked now! Now your siblings won't bother you."

Snufkin sighed softly, standing up. "Okay, thank you. May I excuse myself to my room, then?"

"Yes, dear. Dinner will be ready in an hour."

 

Snufkin picked up his knapsack and hastily made his way up two flights of stairs, passing the floor where his siblings were playing. He reached the door at the top of the second flight. He opened the door and walked into the room, grimacing at the sheer amount of dust floating in the air. The room was rather large and there was a desk in front of a bay window, and to the left, there was a large vanity with a dirty mirror. On the right side of the room, the queen-sized bed sat between two nightstands.

"Well, I suppose this beats freezing outside," he muttered under his breath. He kicked off his worn boots, placing them next to the doorway. He walked over to the desk, rummaging through his knapsack for his stationary.

He sat down and began writing his letter to Moomintroll.

 

As he finished up, there was a tentative knock on the door.

"Coming," Snufkin called, quickly stashing the letter away in his bag.

"Dinner is ready! Papa told me to fetch you," a voice called from the other side of the door.

He opened the door and smiled softly at the little boy looking up at him. "Let's go then."

* * *

_Dear Moomintroll,_

_How has your hibernation been? I hope it's been well._

_I've noticed some strange feelings this winter. I'd talk about them now, but I think these are matters best discussed in person._

_Poppy's hair color has changed, and she got quite prickly with me when I didn't recognize her at first. (How am I supposed to keep all of them straight? Especially if their appearances happen to change!) I have so many siblings to keep track of, it's madness!_

_Mymblemother and Joxter are doing well, as far as I can tell. They've been talking about visiting Moominvalley again one day. It's all they ever talk about when I mention you and Little My._

_I wish this winter would end sooner._

_Snufkin_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone is wondering I'm going to try to keep this fic going for quite some time. I'm just bad at keeping up with schedules and whatnot. *also I've been really busy*  
> ALSO, like... I had to rewrite large portions of this twice, due to chrome crashing :( my b.  
> \---  
> *A consistent upload schedule*  
> Me: *reclining in my hammock, sipping ice tea* I'm sorry, who is she????  
> aaaaa anyways skjdfhl  
> I hope you liked chapter 3!


	4. Like Father, Like Son

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More OCs! Because I have no self-control. And because I love my OCs a lot and think they deserve screen time.  
> Also father-son bonding time ;^)

Snufkin stayed with his family from the week of Christmas until new year's, and a day or two after. It was something Mymblemother talked him into four winters ago, to which he reluctantly agreed. He didn't much care for the holiday festivities, being he wasn't quite religious. Not to mention the unnecessary and anxiety-inducing amount of gifting. So, here he was, sitting on the arm of the antique blue velour sofa on the second morning of his visit. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve.

He was staring blankly at the open Bible on the chest of drawers when Mymblemother placed a paw on his shoulder. Snufkin jumped at the sudden contact, his head whipping around to see his mother standing behind him.

"My, my... Rather jumpy, aren't we?" Mymblemother raised her eyebrows at her son, grinning. "Anyways," She waved her paw about. "Could you be a dear and watch the pot on the stove? I need to round up your siblings."

Snufkin nodded, brushing his bangs out of his eyes. He hopped down from the couch and walked to the kitchen. His untied bootlaces dragged across the hardwood, the aglets clicking and catching on some of the imperfections. "I'm just not used to physical contact..." He muttered to himself, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He leaned against the dark wood countertop and peered into the pot of porridge. He grabbed the wooden spoon that was laying on the spoon rest to stir the pot. The warm, nutty aroma made his mouth water and his stomach growl. 

He turned the stove to low and wandered into the entry hallway, peering up the stairs as Mymblemother was headed down with the children. "I'm having a smoke, but I set the stove to low. I'll be back in when I'm done," Snufkin said, hastily making his way out the door before his mother could protest.

He sat down in a chair on the far side of the veranda with a sigh. He pulled his pipe, matchbox, and tobacco bag from his frock's pocket. It was rare for him to get a moment to himself when he stayed at the Mymble residence, so he relished in the times he could escape for a smoke.

He had been alone for approximately two minutes before he heard the door open. His solitude was nice while it lasted. Thankfully, it was just Joxter, who sat in the seat next to him, offering him a small, sleepy smile. "Mornin' Snufkin." He pulled his pipe from the breast pocket of his shirt under the large coat he was wearing.

Snufkin smiled back and tipped his hat, shyly shaking the box of matches in his father's direction. "Light?"

Joxter stuffed his pipe and stuck it between his teeth, before grabbing the matches from Snufkin's paw. The two sat in comfortable silence, listening to the winter ambiance as they smoked. After a while, Joxter glanced over at his son and spoke up. "You've got a lot on your mind, don't you?"

The sudden question took Snufkin by surprise. He raised his eyebrows and took his pipe from his mouth, nodding. "I suppose that's just how I am. Always thinking about this and that. Certainly, you'd know how it is." He pulled his feet up onto the wicker chair, hugging his knees to his chest.

Joxter hummed and scratched his chin. "I suppose I do. I just wanted you to know that you could talk to me about these things if you needed." He smiled again before standing and stretching. "No pressure though." He added, puffing a few smoke rings.

He leaned over the railing of the veranda, chuckling lightly. "I was just like you when I was younger."

Snufkin peered at him, furrowing his brow. "How so?" 

"When I was younger..." Joxter started, glancing over his shoulder at his son. "I was a vagabond. I traveled all over the world with Moomin, Hodgekins, and Muddler on the ship _The Oshun Oxtra_." He sighed nostalgically. Snufkin didn't dare tell Joxter that he knew these things from when Moominpappa read his memoirs, so he just listened. Joxter continued. "We were quite the motley crew, but we became best of friends as time went on." He turned to face his son now, his tail swishing side to side languidly. "I fell in love on that ship."

Snufkin nodded passively, leaning his chin on his knees. He smoothed his paws over his brown corduroy pants idly.

"I fell in love with Moomin." Joxter reiterated as his piercing blue eyes met Snufkin's. 

Snufkin blinked incredulously, a spark running up his spine. "But... W-wait- What?" He sputtered, shaking his head. "Did you ever tell him?" He blurted breathlessly, dropping his feet back to the ground. He swallowed thickly, gripping the hem of his frock as if to anchor himself. His eyes were wide, his heart was thumping in his ears, and he worried his bottom lip with his teeth. He didn't know why, but the thought of his father falling in love with Moominpappa made him almost feel anxious.

"No," Breathed Joxter, running a paw across the weatherworn handrailing. "I couldn't ever bring myself to. And once I'd found the courage, he'd fallen head over heels for the Moomin he's with now." He shook his head, flipping his pipe upside down and tapping it against the handrail. It knocked the tobacco into the snow-covered flowerbed below. He shrugged, looking back out to the snowy yard beyond the veranda. "It's all fine, though. I met your mother whom I then fell in love with... And now we're living happily here." Joxter said, tucking his pipe back into his pocket.

"But why did you tell me this?" Snufkin asked, sheepishly scratching the back of his neck. He felt strange, sharing a secret like this with Joxter.

"Because I don't want you to wait too long," Joxter stated simply with a small smile, winking and tipping his hat before sauntering back in the door.

Snufkin wasn't sure how to feel, so he just looked out at the fir trees that lined the property. They were blanketed in glistening white snow, and in the distance, he heard the shrill call of the great grey shrike. Down at the foot of the hill, there was a vast birch forest that surrounded the town. The clean, white paper birch trees were his favorite, they looked as if they had thousands of eyes. In the cold of the winter when they had shivered their leaves off, they looked breathtaking in the snow. 

His thoughts wandered to Moomintroll and his contagious laughter, the special friendship they shared, and all of the feelings he was hiding deep inside. He wondered if Moomin felt the same about him, but his chest started to ache as it usually did and his cheeks went warm. Was he ashamed? He felt like he would explode if he dwelt on these feelings too long, so he picked at the hem of his frock, pulling some wavy threads from the stitches. He closed his eyes and listened to the birds and the wind, and the gentle creaking of the wooden house. Anything to keep his mind partially occupied.

Eventually, he stood up and knocked the tobacco out of his pipe the same way his father did before heading back inside.

As he walked in the door, all of the younger mymble children came stampeding through the entry hallway. Some scattered into various rooms on the bottom floor, the rest clambering back up the stairs. Poppy peered her head around the corner of the wall, grinning. "Come get some porridge before it runs cold! I have something I want to tell you while you eat!" Poppy chirped. She quickly made her way back to the dining room. She sat next to Joxter, who was stirring his bowl with an unreadable expression.

Snufkin made his way through the dining room into the kitchen, where one of the older Mymbles stood in front of the pot, humming softly. She had her fiery red curls pinned back behind a floral hairband and she was wearing an apron. Her name was Milly, and she was one of Snufkin's younger siblings. She was the oldest of the children that were still living here and she was surprisingly soft-spoken. She played the violin, tutored the younger children, and helped Mymblemother with the chores around the house. She had bad eyesight, but that never stopped her from dabbling in painting and writing. She was immensely smart and kind, and Snufkin admired her greatly.

"Hullo," Snufkin tipped his hat. He rocked forward on his tiptoes to peer over her shoulder at the greens she was preparing. He laced his paws together in front of himself awkwardly. "How're you, Milly? It's been a while."

"I'm quite good. I've been tutoring Poppy, August, Greta, and Milo a lot. Poppy's doing very well in learning to read piano music. Would you like me to prepare you a bowl?" She asked, her voice silvery and clear, like a bell. Milly turned to face him, adjusting the ovaline brass-rimmed glasses that sat atop her nose. She beamed at her older brother, daintily wiping her paws on the faded pink apron. "You can have it savory or sweet."

"I'll take it with those greens- is it chard?" He asked, pulling out a bowl from the drying rack. He ran a towel over it to collect any stray moisture before handing it to Milly. 

"Mhm! I prepared it at Mama's request. We planted them in the fall." She replied, ladling in a hearty helping into the bowl. She placed a little mound of the chopped greens atop it. "I hope you like it," she said shyly, handing him the bowl.

He sat at the dining table next to Poppy, who was practically bouncing off the walls with pent up energy. "Took you long enough!" She muttered, crossing her arms.

Snufkin chuckled through a spoonful of porridge. "I'm sorry, I was catching up with Milly." He reached for the coffee pot at the center of the table, pouring himself a cup. Poppy only shook her head, frowning. Her nose creased and wrinkled across her freckles. She watched Snufkin closely, resting her chin in her paw. "Well, when you're finished here, I have somewhere I want to take you." Snufkin raised an eyebrow at her, sipping his coffee. 

"It's my favorite place ever. I think you'll like it, too." She smiled dreamily, tracing the embroidered paisley pattern on the tablecloth.

 

After he finished breakfast, Snufkin cleaned his dishes and set them to dry. Poppy grabbed his paw as soon as he was done and lead him out the back door, trekking down the snowy hill towards the birch trees. "I have a really special hideout no one else knows about! I come here when I want to be alone. You can come down here if you happen to feel overwhelmed."

When they reached a small clearing in the woods, there was a little lean-to, a fire pit, and a frozen-over frog pond. "Wow! This is wonderful, Poppy. Thank you for trusting me enough to bring me here." Snufkin knelt in the snow next to the pond, placing his paw on the glassy surface. The bottom of the small pond was covered in watermilfoils.

"I think that this place is magical! It feels special to me." Poppy said, sitting under the lean-to. She reached into the corner and pulled out a box that was decorated with various pressed flowers and scraps of fabric. "I have a collection here," She gently brushed her fingers over the crocheted lace that trimmed the edges.

Snufkin walked over, removed his hat and sat under the small roof with her, looking into the box. Inside was a wealth of various quartz stones, bits of dirty ribbon, buttons and glass beads, and other odds and ends. There was also a small journal inside that was tied in twine, which Poppy quickly pulled out and opened to the first page. "Take a look here!" She pointed at some rather messy scrawl.

It read:

 

> _Pressed poppy flower- 04/08. Greta, Milo and I went to the poppy ~~feilds~~ fields and picked some. I pressed this one!_
> 
> _Thick blue ribbon- 19/08. From Milly's dress that got ruined. Shame. I liked that dress._
> 
> _Orange and yellow beads- 03/09. The string of Mamma's readers broke, spilling the beads everywhere!_
> 
> _Red ribbon- 12/09. Sara wasn't looking and I snipped a bit of ribbon from her spool :)_
> 
> _Blue jay feather- 13/09. How wonderful! This is quite the find! Thank you, Mr. Blue Jay!_
> 
> _Amethyst- 25/09. I was digging for worms in the backyard and found this. It's such a pretty color!_
> 
> _Seaweed colored cloth button- 01/10. Pappa gave me the button that fell off his frock! How sweet of him._
> 
> _Tarnished ruby ring- 14/10. I found this on a walk through the birch forest. It was buried under some leaves. I wonder whos it was?_
> 
> _Sea glass- 21/10. August gifted this to me when he and some of our other siblings went to the beach and I had a fever._
> 
>  

"That's superb. I'm glad you've got something to do in your free time." Snufkin smiled softly at Poppy. "Speaking of free time, I heard from Milly that you've taken on learning to play the piano?"

Poppy nodded shyly, smiling back. "I think I'm doing quite well! Pappa plays his banjo with me sometimes when I practice." Her face lit up and she had stars in her eyes. "Did you know that he can just play along to almost anything? He's amazing!" She giggled and tied the journal back up, hiding the box away again. "Do you collect things?"

Snufkin shook his head. "No, not really. Not for myself at least. I prefer to have experiences over clutter but truth be told... I collect little trinkets and send them to a friend of mine. He keeps everything I give him." He smiled, tapping his fingertips together. "I could get you some things on my travels too if you'd like!" 

Poppy beamed, flapping her paws about excitedly. "Really?! Promise?!" 

Snufkin nodded. "I promise. Say, I have something you might be interested in, but it's back at the house. Shall we head back?"

Poppy climbed out of the lean-to and grinned. "I'd love that!"

 

 

They climbed the stairs to the room Snufkin was staying in. He closed the door behind Poppy. She began coughing. "This is awful! We keep this door closed ninety percent of the year so it gets extremely dusty! Good lord!" She screwed up her nose, shaking her head.

Snufkin chuckled, digging through his knapsack. "Yeah, I very nearly died when I walked in here yesterday." He pulled out an intricately carved rosewood box from his bag with a mischevious smile. "Now... These are very special to me so you have to be careful. I only have these because I was given them by my dear friend." He crawled to the center of the space on the floor, where he gently placed the box down.

Poppy tilted her head, causing her dark hair to fall in her eyes. She tiptoed as to not disturb the box, sitting in front of her brother on the opposite side of the box. "Well... What is it then?" Her eyes went starry again as Snufkin gently lifted the top off the box. Inside lay a deck of cards with gilded edges and a star pattern on the backs. Snufkin turned the box over in his hand, pulling the deck out. "Here, look..." he fanned the cards out on the ground.

Poppy gasped loudly, clasping her hands together. "Tarot cards! Oh, they're fantastic!" She reached to touch them but faltered. "May I?"

Snufkin chuckled. "Sure. Just be gentle if you shuffle them. I preserve them carefully, but I still like to make sure they're in good shape." He smiled softly. "I could give you a reading if you'd like."

"Please do! I think they're just wonderful!" Poppy giggled, placing her paws in her lap. She wiggled about as she watched her brother shuffle. Snufkin closed his eyes, humming softly. 

"And here we are. Ten of cups, The Empress, and Three of Cups! How wonderful, Poppy. These cards speak of great things! Ten of Cups generally refers to harmony, joy, love, and feeling in tune with those around you. The Empress speaks of much the same, suggesting you're a loving and nurturing person. This card also suggests you may be growing and blossoming into a more mature person. Three of Cups represents celebration and friendship, and it encourages you to just let loose."

Poppy was absolutely awestruck. "Wow... The cards tell you all that? Are you some sort of card-whisperer? I'd need a guidebook or something to know what they mean!"

Snufkin chuckled, waving his paw dismissively. "No, I just studied the meanings in a library, and most importantly...I listen to my intuition." He packed the cards back up and placed them back in his bag. "What do you say we save our lungs and get out of this blasted room?"

 

Poppy and Snufkin were sitting on the opposite ends of the couch when Milly approached them tentatively. "Poppy, it's time for your piano practice, Milo just finished his tutoring session."

Snufkin perked up. "Mind if I sit in with you? I want to see how you're coming along." Poppy nodded shyly, smiling.

The three of them walked to the room off of the entry hallway to the left. Milly drew the deep blue velveteen curtain, giving them some privacy. "Go ahead. Your scales to warm up, then your piece." Milly started the metronome, adjusting her glasses.

Snufkin sat in the rocking chair in the corner, tapping his foot along with the metronome. Poppy played her scales very well, flying through them easily. After turning off the metronome and stretching a bit, she began her piece. The rolling chords sent shivers through Snufkin's body. He clasped his paws together, pleasantly surprised. As the piece drew to a close, Snufkin exclaimed: "That was amazing!"

Milly nodded, smiling softly. "You should be proud of the work you put in! It's really come a long way." Poppy beamed, faux-curtseying on the piano bench. "Why thank you!"

There was a gentle knock on the wall, and Joxter peaked his head through the curtain. "Hullo, I heard Poppy practicing... Could I come in?"

Poppy jumped down from the bench and grinned, swishing her dress. "Yes, I want to play with you! Did you bring your banjo?"

Joxter nodded, stepping into the room before drawing the curtain again. In his paw was the handle of a large, black instrument case. He sat on the brown velour sofa, opening the case and strumming his banjo. He fiddled with the keys, tuning it.

Milly tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Well, I suppose I might fetch my violin then! I could also fetch the flute if you'd like me to, Snufkin." She paused, then frowned. "Do you still play the flute?" 

"I do! I could come with you, so you don't have to carry too much," Snufkin suggested. Milly smiled. "I'd appreciate that."

Together, they climbed the stairs to the second floor. They waded through toys that were scattered about on the floor of the main room, walking to the room on the far side. Milly produced a small brass key from the pocket of her dress, unlocking the room and quickly making her way inside. Snufkin followed suit.

She turned on the light switch and the light fixture flickered to life. The walls were a powdery pink color, and it smelled like roses. There were three beds in the room, an armoire, and a makeup table. She grinned, opening the armoire.

Inside was packed full of a large collection of frocks of all colors and varying sizes. "This is where the older girls sleep, myself included." She informed, rifling through the clothes. Behind the last dress, she pulled out a long silver box with a handle. She offered it to her brother. It was cold from the winter draught that came in through the windows.

She closed the armoire back up and grabbed the violin case that was resting next to the bed on the furthest side of the room. "Let's go then!"

 

When they came back down, Poppy and Joxter were making funny faces at each other and laughing. It warmed Snufkin's heart.

"Alright! Well, this might be a disaster, but we might as well try!" Milly chimed, setting her violin case on top of the upright piano. She opened it, rosined her bow and tuned her instrument. "The three of us are just going to try and improvise along with your piece, Poppy! So go ahead when you're ready!"

Snufkin pulled the bamboo flute from the case, running his fingers along the dark wood. This was about to be interesting. Poppy began her piece once more, and Milly offered a sweeping countermelody. Joxter laid down some languid harmonizations and Snufkin played an echo of the mournful melody, but up the octave.

It went surprisingly well! It sounded lovely and they all cheered and celebrated when they finished.

"That was wonderful!" Poppy exclaimed, tears pearling in the corners of her eyes. "I'm so happy right now!"

Snufkin beamed, laughing. "That was really amazing. Brava! Each of you are splendid musicians!"

Joxter chuckled, patting him on the back. "You are too." He smiled softly, packing his banjo back up before slipping back out the doorway without another word.

Milly shook her head. "How strange he is... But he's a very good father."

Snufkin hummed thoughtfully, nodding. "He really is."

Poppy sighed dreamily, laying on the sofa. She draped her elbow over her eyes melodramatically. "We should do this more often. I really had fun..." She sat upright with a determined look on her face. "Snufkin! By next winter, I'll have two- no, three songs learned! That's a promise!"

Milly raised her eyebrows, grinning. "Wow. That's quite the promise, Poppy." She chuckled, pushing her glasses up. "I'll make sure you see to it."

Snufkin chortled, putting the flute away. "Should we return this?" Milly nodded, packing her violin.

Poppy stood up. "I'll come too!"

 

It was nightfall by the time Snufkin got anymore alone time. Not that he actually minded, the day had been strange but refreshing. He locked the door to the room he was staying in. He pulled out his stationary and started writing his second letter to Moomintroll.

After he finished, he tucked it safely into his bag and went to sleep.

* * *

 

_Dear Moomintroll,_

_Today was so strange!_

_I learned some things about my father that I never suspected before, and it seems he knew things about me that I hadn't told him. I'm not sure how. He told me that he was really similar to me when he was younger and I didn't believe him until he told me a story about it. It's quite odd how much he was like me._

_Besides that, Poppy has a secret hideout in the woods near the house. We spent some time talking about each other, and she showed me a collection of bits and bobs she's collected. I felt special. I'm thinking that we should send her things for her collection from Moominvalley when I come back. I also told her vaguely about how I sent you things and she smiled in a funny, kind of knowing way. I think she knew I was talking about you._

_Milly has been tutoring Poppy in playing piano and by Jove she's amazing! Poppy played a really haunting and beautiful melody. She learned it very fast, apparently. Milly was jabbering on about it with a look of great pride in her eyes._

_Oh, and Joxter plays the banjo. He came into the room and took out his banjo, which sparked Milly to get her violin. She even lent me her bamboo flute to use! We had a family music session, and honestly, it was the most fun I've had at this house._

_Well, it's getting late and I'm quite tired. I want to sleep so I think this is where my letter ends._

_Good night,_

_Snufkin_

_P.S. I hope you're having pleasant dreams._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Joxter is a Bi icon ok thanks xoxo
> 
> Poppy just wants love and attention 👊😔


End file.
